


Holehearted

by merycula (thanksillpass)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksillpass/pseuds/merycula
Summary: Otabek Altin woke up with a hole in his chest one morning.





	

Otabek Altin woke up with a hole in his chest one morning. It just appeared suddenly, slightly to the left, where it definitely hadn’t been before. Just a hole the size of a fist, or maybe a large apple. Its unobtrusive presence didn’t hurt or bother him in the slightest, not physically anyway. It wasn’t _ripped_ out of his chest; shaped like a perfect circle and smooth around the edges, it looked and felt quite cartoonish, really, almost too abstract to believe it was actually there, if Otabek weren’t able to put a fist and an apple through it.

He got used to it rather quickly, and he carried on with his otherwise unremarkable life as always. He woke up every morning and fed his boring cat, went to his average university, then to his dull part-time job in a coffee shop, fed his cat again, put ordinary effort into his homework, and went to sleep in his bed that was too standard to be properly uncomfortable and give him any reason to be unsatisfied with it. Everything in Otabek’s life was plain, and an inexplicable hole in his chest wasn’t any different.

There wasn’t anyone he could talk to about it anyway, even if talking was something he enjoyed doing. 

His boss had to have a soft spot for him, because Otabek’s customer service left a lot to be desired, but he still had a job to go to every afternoon, and he was grateful for it. There weren’t many things in life that Otabek actively enjoyed, but riding a motorcycle was one of them, and a bike wasn’t a cheap thing to maintain. He didn’t begrudge it - the irreplaceable feeling of sweet freedom and almost overwhelming limitlessness riding gave him was compensation enough. During winter, when the bike was safely stowed away in the shed, Otabek skated. It was the closest thing to flying a person could experience, in his opinion, with nothing but planes of cold, unforgiving ice surrounding him, sliding through air that filled his lungs with invigorating ice shards, similar to the chilly breeze against his face when he balanced on the edge of the speed limit on the highway at night.

“You look more moody than usual,” chirped Chris, pulling Otabek away from his thoughts. “Something wrong?”

“There is a hole in my chest,” replied Otabek truthfully, not expecting to be believed.

Chris frowned. “Did you not sleep again, Otabek? I don’t want you to be embarrassed later for actually talking about your feelings to me.”

Otabek let out a soft sigh and turned away from his coworker without another word. He regretted saying anything already, remembering that Chris was the kind of person who would go around the coffee shop and tell everyone who cared to listen (or didn’t) that Otabek had feelings that needed to be addressed immediately because he had just admitted there was something missing in his life. Otabek didn’t come up with this “theory” on his own - he literally heard Chris say that to Phichit just then - but it gave him a pause. _Was_ there something missing in his life? Was there a hole in his chest because there was an empty, shrivelled shell barely pumping blood to his brain where his heart was supposed to be? If so, what was he supposed to fill it with, if skating and riding a bike hadn’t already?

“I’m sure Chris is exaggerating a bit, as usual, but if you need a friend to talk to, I’m here.”

Otabek lifted his eyes to stare at Phichit, who looked undeterred by Otabek’s impassive expression, smiling gently like he always did. Phichit was a warm, kind guy, and Otabek didn’t like him very much. He didn’t really like anyone, to be honest, and it never affected him in any way - he enjoyed being alone, didn’t feel the need for company other than an unresponsive cat who didn’t require anything from Otabek except for food and a lap to sit on, very occasionally. People puzzled him, mostly, and seemed to be too much effort than they were worth in general. Still, that did seem to be only thing that was _missing_ in Otabek’s life, even if he wasn’t aware it was a bad thing that warranted the universe to carve a hole in his chest to make him realise it. 

“Maybe I do need a friend,” he admitted blandly, and promptly turned away from Phichit, just in time to see his bright happy smile slip when he realised Otabek didn’t mean _him_ in particular.

 

Like with many things, Otabek didn’t bother following through with actually finding a friend. Testing a flaky theory was not incentive enough to turn his life upside down and let a random person in, and for what? To fix an issue that didn’t even cause him any discomfort? Otabek always believed that friendship was something that should happen naturally, so he decided to wait his current situation out - if someone came along to fill the literal hole in his chest, great, but Otabek wasn’t going to go out of his way to make it happen. 

“You do need to create an opportunity, though.”

Otabek admittedly wondered how a customer was aware of his predicament and his thought process, but didn’t question it out loud, wanting to limit their interaction as much as possible. Yuuri Katsuki reminded Otabek of a shaking leaf hanging on the branch by sheer power of determination and fear of falling. He was an odd and complicated person, perhaps not much more than any other, but still too much for Otabek’s taste. He seemed shy and insecure in one moment, and resolved and larger-than-life in the next. He was five years older than Otabek, but seemed like a fragile child in comparison, naive and easily excitable, prone to sudden mood changes; Otabek sometimes had to wonder which one of them was the weird one. He was willing to entertain the thought that _he_ was the oddball, considering Yuuri was a highly functioning member of society, with a husband and a dog, and a house he wasn’t renting from shifty Russians. 

“Like, I was crushing on Victor for _forever_ , but I was always too afraid to do anything about it, and if he hadn’t approached me, I’d die alone pining after him instead of getting married to him.”

Otabek quickly decided against that idea. “Please stop talking to me.”

“My point is—”

“I get your point. Here’s your order. Good day.”

Dejected, Yuuri moved away from the counter and sat at one of the tables, presumably to wait for Victor to come pick him up. It wasn’t that Otabek paid attention to the daily routine of the married couple, it was just that Yuuri seemed like someone who’d be afraid to go anywhere alone, lest a natural disaster or, say, a squirrel happened to end his life, ridding him of a chance to spend his last moments with the person he loved. Otabek felt a little bit sick, and he was glad his facial expression wasn’t reflecting that when the man in question finally entered the cafe. Surprisingly, there was a sample sized blond kid with peculiar fashion sense in his tow that instantly made Otabek think of his grumpy cat. The kid was visibly unwilling to hang around the couple any longer than necessary, and he was eyeing Otabek with petulant suspicion. Otabek could definitely sympathise - if there was anything more difficult than being around people, it was being around people in love. 

“What can I get you, kid?” he droned when the boy approached the counter.

The kid tensed, his expression momentarily vulnerable before clouding again. “Strong black coffee, no sugar.”

Otabek shrugged, pleased with the simplicity of the order. “And what name should I put on the cup?”

“I’m the only customer here,” replied the boy as he looked around the place with a bored expression. “I think we will manage without me disclosing my personal information to a complete stranger, thanks.”

Otabek couldn’t help but smile to himself at the kid’s quite obviously forced nonchalance, but he was at least able to hold back until he turned away to prepare the coffee. They didn’t speak to each other again, and Victor soon called his young friend over (Yurio, so Yuri, like his husband, and why was Otabek even paying attention?). They stayed a bit longer, enough for Otabek to notice Yurio grimace in disgust as he sipped his black coffee a few times before leaving a basically full cup on the table and trailing behind Victor and Yuuri. Otabek would have been offended if he cared about the quality of his coffee-making skills. Or doubted it. 

 

Yurio quickly became a regular customer, sometimes coming by with Victor, sometimes alone, and always ordered the same thing, always making the same disgusted face as he tasted the coffee, and always leaving without finishing his drink. Otabek had to admit it was rather amusing, almost as much as his blatant dislike for Yuuri. He always shouted at him, getting all up in his face, leaving him a shaking and teary-eyed mess, naturally gravitating towards Victor’s comforting open arms, which only seemed to enrage Yurio more. The kid couldn’t have been older than eighteen, and Otabek had to be in awe of his potential for emotional destruction at such a young age. He occasionally wondered where all that pent-up rage was coming from, but never for long - he was always good at accepting reality as it was and leaving it be.

Still, he felt himself drawn to that new and unexpected addition to his daily life, a little stormy cloud in a flashy t-shirt coming and going before Otabek could decide if he minded that it rained on him. People-watching wasn’t something he’s ever tried before, so he wasn’t sure if Yurio was a particularly entertaining subject or if it was always this engaging. Otabek was almost positive it was the former, so he kept watching, and he never got bored, learning something new every day and greedily storing all the information. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but Yurio had hard eyes of a soldier, which contrasted with his almost angelic look and the natural grace of his movements. If he had to guess, Otabek would say he was a dancer, and he found himself wishing there was a way to confirm his suspicions without seeming like he cared.

But he did care, and it was unsettling. 

“You should just talk to him,” offered Phichit, as usual unprompted, just so Otabek remembered that he cared. Otabek seriously disliked him. “I think you’d make good friends. You’ve got so much in common!” 

Phichit was clearly getting excited, so Otabek decided to humour him, and raised his eyebrows in silent question, almost curious as to how Phichit was planning to talk his way out of that particular overstatement. He patiently watched Phichit close and open his mouth, raising his finger when he thought he did come up with something sensible to say, and flagging when he finally realised how absurd that would sound. Just before Otabek decided the conversation was pointless, Phichit tried again.

“You both… dislike… other people?”

Otabek let out a genuine chuckle. “Great foundation for friendship.”

“It’s a start! Friends who slay together, stay together! Or… something… You haven’t even had a proper conversation with him! Who knows what you will find out about him if you just _talk_ to him. Come _on,_ Otabek!”

“Why is it so important to you?”

Phichit looked embarrassed, and it was suddenly clear to Otabek that Yuuri must have put him up to this so that Yurio would get off his back, distracted by a new relationship that would hopefully consume a large portion of his free time - Otabek had never liked Phichit more. Of course, there were probably more reasons for Phichit to push, cheesy and nauseating reasons like wanting Otabek to be happy, but no one was perfect. Feeling generous and in a rather good mood, he ruffled Phichit’s hair before proceeding to ignore him for the rest of his shift. There was no avoiding noticing Phichit and Chris basically crying in each other’s arms, but Otabek refused to let that ruin his day. When Yurio came in, alone this time, there was a moment when Otabek felt confident he would talk to him and offer something more than an impassive expression and a cup of coffee Yurio obviously hated, until he realised he had no idea what to say.

“Why do you always order that? You always make weird faces as you sip it, and you never finish your drink. Are you trying to look mature because you’re so small?”

For the first time in his life, Otabek learned what mortification felt like. It took him that entire time to come up with possibly the most insulting thing he could have come up with, and he was afraid to meet Yurio’s eye. All he could see was Yurio’s hand shaking violently as it reached for the coffee, and worried it would end up splashed on his face, disfiguring him for the rest of his life, Otabek finally lifted his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. Yurio’s mouth was twisted in a furious snarl, his blue eyes aflame, an angry blush covering his cheeks, and underneath all of that was something like betrayal and embarrassment. The hole in Otabek’s chest _throbbed._ He nearly had forgotten it was there, and now it throbbed almost painfully, making Otabek dizzy. Before Yurio could react in any way to the affront, Otabek blurted out the first thing that came to his mind:

“Do you want to be my friend?”

Yurio visibly started, his features gradually smoothing into mild confusion, only slightly coloured with distrust. “Why?”

Otabek thought for a while about his answer. He considered telling him about a hole in his chest, but that would only make it sound like an experiment. He could tell the truth and admit he’d never really had any friends, but that would make him sound pathetic and unappealing as a future friend prospect. He could say he has been watching Yurio and took interest in him, that he was curious and wanted to get to know more about him, but even Otabek realised how creepy that was. He took a deep breath to keep panic and anxiety at bay, and finally shrugged. 

“Why not?”

 

It had been a bit awkward at first. Well, it was very awkward at first, but it got considerably less awkward with time. They weren’t that compatible - where Otabek barely let anything affect him, Yurio probably had the shortest fuse of everyone Otabek had every come across. Where Otabek scared people away just by looking at them, Yurio had to beat them off with a stick, sometimes literally. It was weird to talk about themselves only to find out that the other was a complete opposite. They didn’t share any interest beyond skating, but to Otabek it was mostly a replacement for the bike, and for Yurio it was a part of his training regime for the ballet, so they quickly stopped talking about it too.The only thing they seemed to have in common was, actually, the general dislike for other people.

But they made it work. They’ve put effort into it. They had the kind of friendship that just didn’t make any sense, and you stayed friends just to spite other people. Unfortunately for both of them, the people in their lives were cartoon characters made of rainbows and sunshine, and they were beyond themselves with happiness for them. Otabek and Yurio tried their best not to let that taint their relationship. Instead, they focused on the benefits of finally having someone to complain about those people to, and simply standing by each other, on principle, occasionally rescuing a certain someone from fans in a dramatic fashion involving motorbikes, or verbally abusing a horrible customer when a different someone couldn’t be bothered to defend himself.

It took _a lot_ of effort, but they made it work. 

Otabek had to admit that he was pretty… content. Considering that neither of them had anything to compare it to, and that both of their expectations were somewhat different to most people, Otabek would say they’ve became pretty great friends. There was only one thing that slightly bothered him about Yurio. He wasn’t a jealous or a possessive person - for example, he didn’t mind that when Yurio visited his entire world was instantly shrunk down to Otabek’s cat and Otabek himself might as well not exist - but he definitely thought that Yurio was whining about Victor’s relationship with Yuuri too much.

“Are you in love with Victor?” he asked one day, and was relieved when Yurio looked mortally offended, but only for a brief moment. “Do you have a crush on Yuuri then?”

“What the hell?!” snarled Yurio, his face instantly going red. “It’s one thing to accuse me of having feelings for my _cousin,_ really, honest mistake, but for you to even _think_ I would want anything to do with that little piggy-”

“I think you have a crush on Yuuri,” interrupted Otabek, unable to hold back a smirk. “I think you like him, that’s why you’re so mean to him.”

Yurio spluttered. “You’re mean to him too! Does that mean you want to bone him too?!”

Otabek grinned, reminding Yurio that no one said anything about sex, and Yurio pointed out that it was what everybody thought, and that was the end of it. Otabek didn’t learn the answer to his question, but if Yurio wasn’t comfortable with sharing anything on that particular subject, Otabek was going to wait patiently until he was. It wasn’t as if it had any real effect on their relationship, or on Otabek himself. As much as he enjoyed being friends with Yurio, it didn’t change that much in his life - it didn’t even get rid of the gaping hole in his chest. His existence was still remarkably unremarkable, filled with basically the same ordinary routines, and still missing something that could only be his very heart. If Otabek was willing to ignore something of that magnitude, what did he care that his best (and only) friend was involved in a hopeless love triangle?

Only he did care, a little bit. 

Ever since Otabek mentioned it, Yurio would grow distant, sometimes, watching Otabek warily, or snapping at him with seemingly no reason. Even if he was in a good mood, smiling and excitable, he would suddenly dim in the least expected moment, putting up his walls back again. Otabek suspected Yurio wanted to maybe talk about _it,_ but neither of them was any good at discussing feelings, or even expressing them properly. As for Otabek, he wasn’t very good at even having them - he wasn’t sure he could relate to Yukio’s heart troubles. He’s never been in love, never really thought he _could_ love. He’s barely made one friend at twenty-two, who was going through something Otabek had no control over, and he wasn’t sure what he could do to keep him.

“Am I a good friend?”

Yurio looked up at him, his hand freezing still in the cat’s fur, a scowl forming on his lips. Otabek regretted asking, but he couldn’t back out again. He wanted Yurio to know he cared, because he did, he valued him more than anyone else in his life, even if he didn’t fill the hole in him, he was still more important than all other people Otabek has ever known put together. He wished he could say it out loud. He wished he was enough for Yurio, just like Yurio was enough for him. He wished there was something, anything, he could do to make Yurio say yes.

“Yes,” said Yurio, simply and honestly, surprised it was even questioned. “Why do you ask? You need references? Are you suddenly planing to become a social butterfly or something? Come on, I want to go shopping for cat collars.”

Otabek exhaled, and smiled. 

 

All things considered, their relationship progressed normally after that. They started talking more honestly, perhaps, learned to communicate with each other better. Put even more effort. They didn’t see each other every day, as the novelty of the friendship and anxiety to maintain it wore off. Some days were better and some worse. Sometimes Yurio shut him out and locked himself in the dancing studio, and sometimes Otabek chose the bike over Yurio. Sometimes they went skating together. Sometimes, they spent a whole day in bed - a lazy, tangled mess of boys and cat. It was normal, for them at least, and Otabek liked it. He continued to live his ordinary life with his cat, his friend, coworkers, and a hole in his chest.

People teased them sometimes, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe they seemed too co-dependent, or too cold towards each other; Otabek didn’t care to know what others chose to focus on when it came to judging them. It didn’t matter anyway. How could it, when he had Yurio’s head in his lap, scrolling through one social media app or the other, scoffing and pushing the phone in Otabek’s face ever so often, half-heartedly swatting his hand away when Otabek tried playing with his hair. The cat came and went, the only indication of the time passing by. Otabek would be content staying like that forever. 

“I don’t have a crush on Yuuri, you know,” said Yurio suddenly. “I was jealous. Victor has always been kind of my hero, and then the pig showed up and took him away. I was just acting like a child. I was jealous and lonely. I’m not anymore.”

He didn’t push Otabek’s hand away this time when it started gently stroking the soft blond strands of hair. Otabek didn’t think he needed to say anything, so they stayed like that until Yurio had to go back home. Otabek saw him to the door, and somehow sensed it wasn’t going to be the usual good-bye they shared. It was in the tense line of Yurio’s shoulders, in his skittish glances, as he hesitated between avoiding and meeting Otabek’s confused gaze. They stood in the doorstep, each on the other side, waiting. Finally, Yurio seemed to resolve himself, and took a step closer, stood on his toes, and kissed Otabek on the mouth. Blushing furiously, he turned away to flee, leaving Otabek with a cat rubbing itself on his calves, and a tingle on his lips. 

Was he expecting that, even subconsciously? He wasn’t sure, but he felt calm, normal. He went back into the apartment, then back to bed, and tried asking himself countless questions, tried forcing himself to analyse the development and examine his feelings. But all he could feel was calm, and that peculiar brand of satisfaction you experienced when something long overdue finally happened even though you weren’t really waiting for it. He smiled to himself when he felt his phone vibrate, and his grin only widened as he read the text from Yurio, _“Hope that wasn’t weird.”_ It was. It was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to Otabek Altin, hands down, and he’s never felt happier. _“It wasn’t,”_ he replied. 

When he woke up the next morning, the hole in his chest was gone. 


End file.
